


Life Could Be A Dream

by AnnaRaven



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nerds in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 06:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15701958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaRaven/pseuds/AnnaRaven
Summary: Kaidan Alenko is a children's book illustrator, a single dad, and new member of the community in Maple Bay. Despite the unusual number of eligible dads in the neighbourhood, Kaidan just isn't interested in finding someone new.At least, that is, until the handsome yet mysterious John Shepard moves in across the street...





	1. New Neighbour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Estalfaed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estalfaed/gifts).



> This was started for my lovely friend Estalfaed's birthday but soon spiralled out of control, so I'll be updating weekly until those plot bunnies stop hopping...

I sighed and stretched, stifling a yawn. “It’s no good, my brain is shutting down,” I said, reaching for the TV remote.

Amanda snatched it away, clutching it to her chest as horror filled her face. “But we’re only halfway through the _Chopped: Toddler Tournament_ marathon!”

“Manda, we’ve seen most of them before,” I remind her.

“Which means we know exactly how awesome they’re going to be!” Amanda exclaimed. “C’mon, Dad, don’t wuss out on me now – we still haven’t seen the one with the blowtorch, the teddy bear and the frozen bagels!”

“Alright, fine.” I settle back against the couch cushions and prop my feet on the coffee table. “We can keep watching – but only if you go pop us some more corn.”

“Sigh,” says Amanda, but she gets up anyway. “D’you want chili-lime or salted strawberry?”

“Surprise me,” I say, scratching my belly. It’s not as toned as it used to be, and I vow once again to take up Craig’s offer to be my gym buddy.

Amanda is passing the window when she suddenly stops, peers out and then squeals. “Ooh, look – movement across the street!”

I shoot to my feet, joining her at the window. “Is Robert drunkenly peeing on Joseph’s yard again?”

“Not this time – a car just pulled into number 7’s driveway.”

“Interesting,” I murmur, watching the car and waiting for the driver to get out. Number 7 has been empty since we moved in; Robert told me the owner is in the military and has been renting it out, but now he’s re-joining civilian life and needs his house back.

“I wonder if he’s hot,” Amanda says absently, still gazing out into the night.

I blink. “Even if he is, he’ll be too old for you.”

“Pfft, I was thinking about _you_ ,” Amanda says, cutting her eyes at me briefly.

“Will you stop trying to set me up with every guy in this town?” I roll my eyes, but it’s affectionate. It’s nice that Amanda cares about my happiness, and that she doesn’t want me to be alone when she leaves for college. Which actually is never going to happen, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s not _every_ guy,” Amanda protests. “And besides, you’re so picky about who you date I’m starting to give up hope.”

“Yeah, well, your dad set the bar pretty high.” We share a soft smile, then I briskly say, “And I’m not picky, thanks all the same – the word you want is ‘discerning’.”

“Dad,” Amanda says, taking it seriously enough to fix me with a Look. She holds up a hand, counting off her points on her fingers. “Robert is ‘too intense’; Brian is ‘too competitive’; Hugo is ‘too serious’…”

“Those are all perfectly valid reasons,” I interrupt.

“Maybe,” Amanda concedes, “but you also said Damien is ‘too dramatic’, which isn’t even a thing, and don’t get me started on why you won’t go out with Craig…”

“Your interest is touching, but I’m not discussing this any further,” I interrupt.

I’m saved by the car door opening across the street and a tall, lean figure stepping out onto the dark driveway. I nudge Amanda, and we practically press our noses to the glass trying to get a look at our mysterious new neighbour. He's wearing blue jeans and a leather jacket, but other than that I can't make out much detail.

“He’s tall…that’s good,” Amanda murmurs. “Wide shoulders…looks pretty athletic...”

“How would you even know? It’s pitch black out there.”

“I can just tell,” Amanda shrugs. “It’s a gift, really.”

The guy steps onto his porch and the motion sensor light comes on. Our neighbour’s back is floodlit as he tries to get his keys into the lock, and it’s almost as if Heaven itself is shining a light onto the most gorgeous butt I’ve seen in a long time…

…or maybe Amanda is right and I really need to start dating again.

* * *

I wake up on the couch with a crick in my neck, a blanket draped over me and popcorn in my lap. I groan, long and loud, as I sit up and every nerve and sinew protests the movement.

“Morning, Pops,” Amanda says breezily, sweeping in from the kitchen with a mug in her hand.

“Please…Manda…tell me that’s coffee,” I say blearily.

“Piping hot bean juice, just the way you like it,” she says, handing me the mug.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep on the couch again,” I groan. “I appreciate the blanket, sweetpea, but next time wake me up, would you?”

“Sure thing.” Amanda puts her hands on her hips, watching me sip the life-saving brew. “You don’t look so great – you might want to shower before you head over to meet the hot new neighbour.”

“Your encouragement never fails to uplift me,” I say drily. “But I have no immediate plans to meet anybody until I’ve eaten a heaping plate of greasy breakfast foods and put on some fresh clothes.”

“Ah, about that…the washer-dryer seems to be on the fritz,” Amanda says too-casually.

“What did you do?” I ask wearily.

“Nothing! I was just trying out that new tie-dye kit I got for my birthday…and I maybe didn’t exactly read all of the instructions right down to the last detail…and I think maybe one of the dye pods got in there by mistake…”

“Amanda Anne,” I say sternly.

“I know, I know, kids today are so irresponsible,” she interrupts, backing away. “I gotta run, Pops, school awaits.”

“Make good choices,” I call after her.

The door slams and the house is suddenly, blissfully quiet. I finish my coffee, savouring every life-affirming mouthful, and am seriously contemplating going back to sleep when my phone bleeps at me.

_Craig: Bro! Ready to get your run on?_

I sigh. I’d forgotten agreeing to run with Craig this morning, and I’m not sure I feel up to it. But then I think about how fit I used to be back in my Peace Corps days, and how much I’ve let my fitness levels slide in recent years. Feeling newly determined, I text back a quick _Gimme 10 and I’ll be right there_ before heading to the bedroom to change.

* * *

Craig pushes me hard on our run; despite a rocky start, by the end I’m thankful that he didn’t take it easy on me. It feels great to really challenge myself, exhausting though it is, and it’s worth every muscle ache and drop of sweat.

We stand at the bottom of the hill we’ve just conquered, stretching out our tired muscles. It’s gratifying to see that Craig is feeling the pain too – I feel just a little bit less like a human sack of Jello.

“Good work today, bro, I’m impressed,” Craig says with a grin.

“How things change, huh?” I chuckle. “Back in college it was always _me_ hassling _you_ to come swimming with me, or to join the hockey team…”

“Yeah, I never got what you saw in the whole exercise thing until I actually started doing it myself,” Craig nods. “That runner’s high gets me every time.”

“Thanks for today,” I say, taking a long drink of water. “I’m definitely up for doing this more regularly, if you are.”

“Absolutely!” Craig smiles. “So, uh, d’you wanna, maybe, grab some brunch?”

“I would, but I need to go shopping,” I say regretfully. “Amanda’s done something fatal to our washer-dryer and we already have a couple weeks’ worth of laundry backed up.”

“Bummer,” Craig says with a sympathetic head shake. “Okay, bro, let’s get you home. Light jog or murder sprints?”

“Let’s go with light jog,” I say. “I’d kinda like my lungs to stay internal for the time being.”

We jog home, taking it easy, and I enjoy the bright sun and fresh breeze. The birds are singing, the endorphins are coursing through me and I feel great - better than I have in a long while. We turn the corner into the cul-de-sac and I notice our new neighbour stepping out onto his porch; if I thought he looked good in lamplight, it was nothing compared to how he looks in daylight. I see that Amanda was right about his broad shoulders and athletic build; he’s wearing cargo shorts and a black tank that admirably demonstrate his lean-yet-muscled physique. _Man, does he have some biceps…_

“Oh hey, it’s John – let’s introduce you,” says Craig, and crosses the street before I can protest. I follow, trying not to look like an asthmatic tomato and wishing I was wearing coordinating athleisure wear like Craig rather than an ancient pair of basketball shorts and a faded _Space Effect_ T-shirt.

“John, my man – good to see you!” Craig calls out as he approaches.

John turns and grins wide when he sees Craig. He’s so gorgeous that I almost trip over my feet, captivated by his ice-blue eyes and killer cheekbones. The two of them hug, with plenty of back-slapping and laughing, then Craig turns and beckons me closer. “John Shepard, meet Kaidan Alenko. He and his daughter Amanda just moved here.”

“Good to meet you, Kaidan,” John says. His handshake is warm and firm; his smile makes my stomach tighten.

“Yeah, it is,” I babble, going even redder than before. “I mean, ah, to meet you, that is.”

John’s smile widens, and I can’t help but match it. His eyes flick down to my chest and then his eyebrows shoot up. “You like _Space Effect_?” he asks.

“Oh, well, y’know…it’s pretty cool, if you’re into that nerd stuff,” I shrug as casually as I can, neglecting to mention how much merch I have back at home or how many conventions I’ve been to wearing Spandex and blue face paint.

“It’s my favourite game,” John says, and my heart gives a clichéd little pitter-pat. “I play it way too much, really, but it’s a great way to wind down after a long day, y’know? And hey, who wouldn’t want to be a dashing space commander, right?”

“Totally,” I nod, too eager but helpless.

Craig is looking at me oddly, something like a smirk hovering around his lips. He opens his mouth and I sense some form of teasing and/or set-up approaching so I quickly blurt out, “It’s so great to meet you, John, but I have to go on an urgent washing-machine-buying expedition. Ours has stopped working and I’m running out of clean clothes.”

“Oh, okay,” John says, then pauses. “If you like, I could take a look at it for you? I know my way around machinery and I’m pretty good with my hands.”

My mind goes blank for a second as I try not to imagine all the connotations of that statement. Aware that I’m gaping at him, I say without thinking, “Sure, great, thanks – gimme ten minutes to shower first?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean right now…” John begins, then smiles. “But what the hell, I’m not busy today – see you in ten.”

I turn and run before my face bursts into flames.


	2. Getting To Know You

I’m standing in my bedroom, towelling off and gazing forlornly into my almost-bare wardrobe, when the doorbell rings.

“Oh my God, he’s here,” I mutter, pulse leaping. I hadn’t realised how dire the laundry situation was until this very second – the only clean clothes I have are formal shirts, a selection of seasonally inappropriate knitwear, and a novelty T-shirt Amanda bought me last Christmas that I don’t have the heart to throw out.

I lift the lid on the crammed laundry hamper, desperately hoping there’ll be something in there that’s not too crumpled and smelly, but then the doorbell rings again. I can’t leave John standing on the doorstep after interrupting his morning, so I roll my eyes and grab the novelty shirt.

When I open the front door, John’s eyes are immediately drawn to my chest.  “Nice egg nips,” he says, grinning widely. “You have quite the T-shirt collection, it seems.”

“This was a gag gift from Amanda,” I explain, stepping back to let him in. “And beggars with broken washing machines can’t be choosers.”

“No doubt,” John says, nodding. “So where is the old girl?”

I lead him into the kitchen where he sets down his toolbox, muscles flexing attractively. I notice a smattering of freckles across his sun-bronzed shoulders and realise I’m licking my lips unconsciously.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” I say, backing out quickly before I say something humiliating. I make it three steps into the living room before mentally slapping myself and going back. “Sorry, I should have offered you a drink…”

John is kneeling on the floor, walking the washing machine out from under the counter, biceps straining. “That coffee smells pretty great,” he says, nodding towards the pot.

“Sure,” I say, grabbing a mug and filling it. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Plain black is fine,” he says, with a little grunt of effort as he gets the machine out into the middle of the floor.

“I’ll just…leave it…here…” I say, trying not to stare at his ass when he crawls under the counter to disconnect the water pipes. I fail miserably, and flee before he notices.

I head into my office and try to draw for a while, but it’s hard to settle to it. I can hear John humming to himself as he works and his smooth, melodic voice is distracting in the nicest possible way. Eventually I give up, check my hair in the mirror and then wander casually back into the kitchen.

“How’s it going?” I ask.

John sits back on his heels, wiping his sweat-sheened forehead with the back of his hand; a smear of purple dye is left behind. “You’ve got some extremely clogged pipes and a worn-out washer, but otherwise she’s in good shape for a lady her age,” he says. “I’ll have her working again soon.”

“Thanks, John. Oh, um, you’ve got…uh, there’s a smudge on your head,” I say, grabbing the roll of kitchen towel and handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, tearing off a piece and rubbing the wrong side of his head.

“No, other side,” I say. “A little to the left…no, down a bit…”

“Could you?” he says after another failed attempt, handing me the paper towel.

“S-sure,” I say. I lean in closer and the scent of woody aftershave hits my nose. Trying not to hyperventilate, I wipe the smudge off his skin as quickly as I can before I get pulled into those crystal blue eyes.

Twenty minutes later the machine is plugged in, connected up and churning away happily on a test cycle. I watch John packing away his gear, trying to think of something witty and intelligent yet spontaneous and casual to say. Typically, I’ve got nothing.

“That should keep it working for a while longer,” John says, nodding to the washer-dryer, “but if it gives up again let me know.”

“Thanks, John, I appreciate it,” I say sincerely.

“Not a problem – and most of my friends call me Shepard.”

For some reason, his words heat my belly. “Okay then, Shepard – how about you let me pay you for your work?”

“Nah,” Shepard says, waving the offer away. “It was the neighbourly thing to do.”

“Still, it’s taken a good chunk of your day.” I look at my watch and see that it’s a little after 2pm. “How about you let me buy you a late lunch to say thanks?”

Shepard smiles, slow and drawn-out. I’m starting to feel like I’ve said the wrong thing when he quietly says, “Sure. But do you have anything here we can eat? I don’t really feel like mixing with a crowd, you know?”

“Of course,” I say, thinking frantically. “I mean, I haven’t been to the store in a few days but…how does a mushroom omelette sound?”

“It sounds delicious,” Shepard says. “Let me just go wash up properly.”

Shepard heads to the bathroom and I set to work, cracking and chopping and frying and flipping. After a while he wanders back into the kitchen and leans on the counter, watching me work.

“You seem pretty good at that,” he says.

“Omelette is the first meal I learned to cook,” I say, sliding the perfectly brown and fluffy omelette onto a chopping board. “And it was Alex’s favourite lunch, so I made it a lot.”

“Alex is your ex?” Shepard asks, accepting the plate I hand him.

“Yeah,” I say, throat going tight for a second. “He, um…he died a little while back.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Shepard says, and it’s so earnestly heartfelt that it’s more comforting than most of the other platitudes that people poured out at me when I lost Alex.

I smile. “Thanks. So, d’you want to sit outside to eat? There’s no table, but we do have a bench and a selection of attractive lap trays…”

“Sounds good,” Shepard says. His smile is warm, irresistible. I want to kiss him.

We settle out back in the shade of a large tree, the name of which I really should find out since it’s mine now.

Shepard takes a bite of his lunch, his eyes going wide. “Wow, Kaidan, this is good.”

“Thanks,” I say, shrugging coolly. “It was nothing.”

“I can definitely see why Alex was so enamoured,” Shepard says. There’s a double meaning there that I’m not sure he intended, but it kicks my heart rate up a notch all the same. “So how are you finding cul-de-sac living?” he carries on, oblivious.

“I almost can’t keep up with the frenetic pace,” I say drily.

When Shepard laughs, it feels like a win. “I know, man. Joseph’s bake sales can get pretty intense…”

“Yeah, I’m kinda avoiding Joseph,” I say honestly. “Not sure why, exactly, but he sets off my spidey senses.”

“Good instincts,” Shepard nods, not fazed by my unthinkingly nerdy reference. “The other guys are cool, though. You picked a good place to move to.”

“I’m starting to realise that,” I say. Our eyes meet and we smile, then look away at the exact same moment. Am I imagining his reaction, or is he a little more flushed than a second ago?

“Um…Craig said you have a daughter?” Shepard asked.

“Yeah, Amanda. She’s going away to college soon – or so she thinks, anyway. How about you, any kids?”

“Yeah, I have a son named Greg,” Shepard says. “Though mostly we call him Grunt since that’s how he talks nowadays. Fifteen and thinks he knows it all,” he clarifies. “He lives with his mom in Boston. He’ll be with me for Christmas, though – maybe you’ll get to meet him.”

“I’d like that,” I say. “Hopefully by then I’ll be feeling a little bit more settled.”

Shepard’s eyebrow quirks. “Oh yeah? It’s taking some time to put down roots, huh?”

“You could say that,” I nod, taking my last bite of omelette. “I’ve tried to get to know some people but…I’m not the most naturally sociable guy, I guess. I’m not really one for crowds or noise.”

“Same,” Shepard says. There’s a depth of feeling to his tone that intrigues me; I wonder if it’s something to do with his military past.

“Amanda keeps telling me to make more of an effort,” I smile. “I think she’s worried her old dad will be lonely when she’s gone. Which isn’t happening, by the way.”

Shepard chuckles. It’s a good sound. “Have you made any friends yet?” he asks teasingly.

“Well, I know Craig from college so that’s one…and I’ve hung out a little with Robert but he’s kinda…um…”

“Intense,” Shepard finishes for me. He hesitates, then asks, “So has he hit on you yet?”

A laugh bursts out before I can stop it. “Wow, you really get right to the point.”

“I’ve found it’s the best way,” Shepard shrugs.

“Well, um…actually, yeah,” I admit. “It was right after I moved in, I met him one night in Jim and Kim’s. We watched the game, had a couple of drinks, and before I knew it he was inviting me back. It was flattering but…I’m not really into that whole casual thing. Too old, too jaded.”

Shepard’s smile is warm. “I get that. I’m not surprised he went after you, though.”

“Really?” I ask, flushing yet again. Maybe I should see a doctor or something.

“Oh yeah, you’re exactly his type,” Shepard says. I must look puzzled because he clarifies, “Athletic, handsome, good smile, nice eyes…no wonder he couldn’t resist.”

“I guess he must have hit on you too, then,” I say, before I’ve thought it through, still basking in the heat his compliments stirred up in me.

Shepard’s smile is deep and welcoming, with just an edge of something predatory.

“ _Daaaad!_ ” comes a voice from the house, breaking the bubble around us.

“Out here, Manda,” I call over my shoulder. To Shepard I say, “That’s my daughter – it must be later than I thought.”

“Time flies,” Shepard says.

Amanda comes bouncing out to the garden, her expression changing from confusion to smugness in the blink of an eye. “Oh, I didn’t realise you had _company_ ,” she says, heavy emphasis on that last word.

“Amanda, this is John Shepard, our new neighbour,” I say, ignoring her tone.

“Pleasure,” Shepard says, shaking Amanda’s hand. “You’ll be happy to know that I fixed your washing machine.”

“Wow, thanks,” Amanda says. She looks impressed, which is impressive in itself. “And you stayed for lunch too…”

“Just my way of saying thank you,” I say, widening my eyes at her in an attempt to convey the message _Stop pushing this before you scare him off and if you dare say anything embarrassing, awkward or pertaining to my lack-of-love-life you’re grounded until you’re 30._

“Well, I have groceries to buy so I guess I should go,” Shepard says.

“Sure,” I say, “I’ll walk you out.”

We walk to the gate leading through to the front garden and I open it for him. As he moves past me his chest brushes against mine, and I try to pretend it’s not thrilling.

A few steps past the gate, Shepard turns back to me and says, “In the interests of getting Amanda off your back about all the friends you’re not making, how about you come over on Friday evening? We could play a little multiplayer _Space Effect_ , order a pizza, drink some beers…?”

“Sounds great,” I say. _Marry me_ , I think.

“Alright,” Shepard says. He raises one hand in a cool half-wave, which I try and fail to emulate, and then he’s gone.

“Pops has got a daaa-aaate,” Amanda sing-songs from right behind me, and I jump about a foot in the air. She laughs at my reaction. “You’re getting old, Popsicle – reflexes aren’t what they were.”

“If you’re trying to scare me to death to get at your inheritance, you’re out of luck – your old man is broke,” I say, my heart still thudding in my chest.

“Curses – I better go replace that brake cable in your car, then,” Amanda sighs. Then she gives me one of those grown-up looks that she’s pulling out more and more often these days. “For real, though – I’m glad you’re making friends. Muscular, single, sexy friends.”

“Manda Panda,” I say warningly, and she scoots back into the house, giggling all the way.

But her concern for me is real, I know, and I’m grateful for it. Now I just have to get through the next few days without overthinking my ‘date’ with Shepard and getting myself in a panic.

I don’t much like my chances.


	3. First Date

“Good form, bro,” Craig nods, watching in the mirror as I lunge again. The weights in my hands are way smaller than the ones he’d used, but I’m ignoring that and focusing on the good-hurt strain in my quads and glutes.

I complete the set and Craig takes the weights from me with ease, wiping them down before stacking them on the rack. I take a long, long drink of water, enjoying the burn in my legs.

“That was a tight workout today, man,” Craig says approvingly. “We’ll have you back in Peace Corps shape in no time.”

“Thanks, Craig,” I say sincerely. “I appreciate you helping me out.”

“What are bros for?” Craig grins, clapping me on the back. An odd expression crosses his face; it could be called scheming on someone else, but Craig is far too open and guileless for that. “So, any plans for tonight?”

I sigh. “What have you heard?”

“Oh, just that you and Shepard are planning a cosy night in,” he says airily, wiping down his arms with his workout towel.

“Amanda?” I ask.

“Kinda. She told Lucien, who told Damien, who told Hugo, who told me.”

“Figures,” I grumble. “A tight-knit community is all well and good, right up until you want to have some kind of private life.”

“Hey, we’re all on your side, dude,” Craig exclaims, punching my arm a little harder than he probably intended. “I hope it works out with you two.”

“We’re just getting pizza and playing video games,” I tell him, “I don’t even think it’s really a date.”

“From what I know of Shepard, if he’s sharing his precious games with you then he’s trying to impress you,” Craig says. “And if you want to impress him back, I’d dust off your apron and bake up a batch of cookies.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask. “Chocolate chip?”

Craig shakes his head. “Oatmeal raisin. Go heavy on the cinnamon.”

“Is this for real?” I ask suspiciously.

“I swear on my cross-trainer, bro, he loves ‘em,” Craig says, hand on his heart.

“I’m going to choose to trust you,” I tell him as we start heading for the locker room, “but if this all ends up in disaster, I’m blaming you.”

* * *

Amanda helps me bake the cookies. She’s endearingly excited about my ‘date’ with Shepard, as much as I try to downplay it, and she insists on helping me pick out what to wear.

“You don’t want to look too fancy,” she says, shoving my dress shirts to one side with a screech of coat hangers, “but you need to look like you’ve made some effort so all your T-shirts are out…”

“All of them?” I ask. “Even the snowboarding moose?”

I get The Look. “ _Especially_ the snowboarding moose. Maybe…yeah, you look good in plaid, plus with that beard you insisted on growing you can jump on the whole ‘hipster greengrocer’ vibe.”

“Um…thanks?” I say, taking the blue-and-black checked shirt she hands me.

“Put that on and then we’ll sort out your hair,” Amanda says, turning her back while I yank my T-shirt over my head.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” I ask, just a touch huffy, fastening my shirt buttons.

“Nothing, in 1998,” Amanda says breezily. “All done?”

“With this conversation? Yeah,” I say. “Also with the shirt.”

She turns back, eyes me critically, then nods. “Good. Okay, sit on the bed.”

“Mumble grumble,” I say, but do as she asks. It’s kinda nice that she’s taking so much interest, plus she’s way cooler than me so I’m sneakily hoping she’ll turn me cool too.

Amanda grabs my comb and my usual pot of styling wax from the bathroom, then sets to work. It takes forever and I could swear she’s moving individual hairs at one point, but finally she’s done. She stands back, hands on her hips as she scrutinises her work, then gives a satisfied nod. “My work here is done – you’re the hottest dad in Maple Bay.”

“That remains to be seen,” I say, heading for the bathroom mirror.

The style she’s gone for is simple, but effective; she’s parted my hair at the side with a razor-sharp parting, combing some hair across and ruffling it all so it looks artless and natural. If I hadn’t just been developing a butt cramp from sitting still for so long, I could swear it had taken no time at all.

“Wow,” I say, turning my head to see the different angles. “Amanda, it looks…wow.”

“I know, I’m a child prodigy,” she says smugly. “Now hurry it up, Pops, you’re late.”

* * *

I stand on Shepard’s porch, listening to the doorbell echoing inside the house. I’m only a few minutes late, but I feel bad all the same. When Shepard opens the door, two things hit me simultaneously.

One, the look on his face; a subtle widening of the eyes and clenching of the jaw which hint that he’s impressed at what he sees.

Two, that he’s wearing the exact same shirt as me.

“Awkward,” I say, trying to chuckle.

“Not at all,” Shepard says, shaking his head. “Just shows we both have excellent taste. C’mon in.”

I follow him inside, kicking off my shoes and leaving them by the door. “Amanda and I made cookies,” I tell him, handing over the plate.

“Hey, thanks,” he says. He raises the corner of the foil covering and takes a sniff, a grin blossoming. “Are these oatmeal raisin?”

“Yeah,” I say. “ _Everyone_ bakes chocolate chip so I wanted to be different.” Then I smile, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. “And also Craig told me you like them.”

“I appreciate the effort,” Shepard says, his smile warm and deep. “Can I get you a beer?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, following him along to the kitchen. The cabinets and fittings are a little dated and it’s sparse on decoration, but everything is clean and neat.

Shepard takes a bottle from the fridge, twists off the cap and hands it to me before getting his own. Then he opens a drawer and takes out a selection of pizza takeout menus. “I didn’t know if you had a favourite place, so…take your pick,” he says. “I figured I’d ring the order in to be delivered around nine, give us a little time to settle in first.”

“Sure,” I say, nodding. “Is that whole drawer full of menus?”

“Um, yeah,” Shepard says, adorably bashful. “I’m a pretty terrible cook. I had a roommate at the academy who tried to teach me, but I never quite got the hang of it.”

“Fair enough. I’m sure you have other skills,” I say, taking a risk.

It pays off when Shepard takes a step closer, leaning his hip and his hand on the counter beside me and fixing me with a look that can only be called ‘inviting’. “Are you flirting with me, Kaidan?”

“That depends,” I say, swallowing. “Is it working?”

Shepard laughs, rich and warming. “I’ll let you know. So, pizza?”

I pick up a leaflet, recognising the logo of a maniacal chef wielding a knife. “Crazy Tony’s is pretty good.”

“Then we have a winner,” Shepard says. He scans the menu and asks, “You good with a Meat Supreme?”

“If it has bacon, I’m in,” I nod.

“Go on through to the living room,” Shepard says as he picks up the phone, nodding towards a doorway.

The room I walk into is clean and tidy, but the prints on the wall are generic and there are no ornaments or family photos to be seen. Still, the couch looks satisfyingly squidgy and the room is lit by a couple of lamps to create a warm, cosy feeling. A bookshelf beside the fireplace holds one shelf of bestsellers that were big about a decade ago; all the rest of the space is taken up with video games. In the corner stands a low cabinet which holds a huge, top-of-the-range TV with a couple of different gaming consoles on a shelf below.

“All done,” Shepard says behind me, walking past to sit on the couch. “So, is _Space Effect_ good for you or d’you wanna play something else?”

I bite back a too-flirty response and say, “No, that’s all good with me,” as I sit beside him, but not too close. “Looks like you have a lot of other options to choose from, though.”

Shepard grins, handing me a game pad. “Yeah. I don’t often spend money on myself, but when I do indulge it’s usually in video games.”

“Maybe next time we can play something different,” I say, aiming for casual.

“That’s a bold assumption, Alenko,” Shepard says, but he’s smiling.

“I’ve been told I’m good company,” I reply, loosening up a little.

“I’m getting that, yeah,” Shepard says. “But it really all depends on how good a gamer you are.”

“Challenge accepted,” I say, switching all my focus to the game.

We play until the pizza arrives; it seems like barely any time has passed. Our conversation is limited to what’s happening in the game – complaining about our bad luck; berating the characters, or each other – but Shepard has a sharp wit that makes me laugh every time. I feel relaxed, at ease, and it seems like Shepard is enjoying it too. I hope that's not just wishful thinking.

We take a break for pizza, sitting on the couch with napkins and fresh beers, munching in contented silence. “This is good,” Shepard says after a moment. “Better than Mad Giuseppe’s, anyway. I may have to switch my loyalties.”

“Should we be worried about how many of our town’s takeouts have a serial killer vibe?” I ponder.

Shepard laughs. “I never noticed that before.” He looks down and says, “Thanks for being cool with a night in, Kaidan. I’m not really…” He pauses, shifting his gaze to the paused game on the TV. “I prefer quiet spaces nowadays. Crowds sometimes make me nervous.”

“Honestly? This is my idea of heaven,” I say, and he finally looks at me. “My favourite video game, my favourite food and my favourite lager, all rolled up with some great company? What’s not to like?”

Shepard’s expression is hard to read, but there’s a softness in his eyes. “I appreciate your saying that, Kaidan.”

I pause and wonder for a moment how much I should share. _Screw it, I like this guy and I want to be open with him_. I take a breath and say, “And I’m not a fan of crowds either, to be honest. I, uh…I had brain surgery when I was a kid and I still get periodic migraines. Too much noise bothers me sometimes, so a quiet night at home is _always_ good with me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Shepard says, reaching out briefly to touch my arm. “Thanks for sharing it with me.”

I shrug. “You seem like a trustworthy kinda guy,” I say lightly.

“I’d like to think so,” Shepard says. He looks down, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “I want to be honest with you, too; I have…issues that I’m dealing with from my last tour. I’m only ever really comfortable in familiar places, with people I trust.”

My heart leaps. “I’m glad to know you trust me, Shepard.”

“Usually it takes me longer,” Shepard says, tilting his head. “But then, how could I not trust my shirt twin?”

I laugh, both relieved and disappointed that the tension is broken. “Amanda will get a big laugh out of that – she’ll probably say it’s a sign that we’re meant to be together.”

“She might be right,” Shepard says, winking.

“Does that mean I pass the ‘decent gamer’ test?” I ask, reminding myself to breathe.

“Jury’s still out,” Shepard says. “We may need a few more sessions to make sure.”

“I’ll let you know if I’m available,” I say, enjoying Shepard’s laughter.

We eat all of the pizza and some of the cookies, drink another couple of beers, and play until after midnight. Then, standing by the door with my shoes on and ready to go, I turn to Shepard and say, “Thanks for tonight. It was a lot of fun.”

“It was,” Shepard says, nodding. “It was nice having you to myself for a while.” He reaches out and takes my hand; my heart almost explodes on the spot. “We should definitely do this again.”

_Do I kiss him? Do I wait for him to kiss me? Am I somehow reading this all wrong? Why are you still standing here doing nothing? What is wrong with you, Alenko?!_

“Are you free Tuesday?” Shepard asks, breaking into my internal rambling.

“Yes! Absolutely,” I say, trying not to sound too relieved. “Do you want to come to my place, or…is it easier for you to be here?”

Shepard’s smile widens and he strokes my hand with his thumb. “Your place is fine – so long as you have a decent collection of games.”

“It’s not as extensive as yours, but…I think I’ll be able to keep you entertained.”

Shepard laughs, deep and rumbling. “I have no doubt.” He leans in and presses a brief, firm kiss to my lips; this close I can see how long his eyelashes are, the smooth texture of his skin, the faint shadow of his stubble. He looks gorgeous; he smells fantastic. “G’night, Kaidan.”

“Night, Shepard,” I say, and if I do a little happy dance once I’m safely in the darkness of my kitchen then at least there’s nobody there to witness it.


	4. Tension and Trust

“I just can’t decide,” I say. “How can _any_ man be expected to make a decision of this magnitude?”

“Just go with your gut, Pops,” Amanda says, clapping me supportively on the shoulder. “I trust you.”

I lick my lips. “I don’t know if I trust myself. I mean, what if I get it wrong? Think of the repercussions, Amanda!”

“Dad, you’re spiralling,” Amanda says, shaking me gently. “Take a deep breath and just go with your first instinct.”

“You’re right,” I say, nodding. “Thanks.”

“Now,” Amanda says, her tone grave as she holds up two boxes, “which will it be – Vanilla Mallow or Raspberry Dream?”

“Vanilla Mallow,” I say decisively, and put the carton of Pop Pastries into the shopping cart.

“Good choice,” Amanda says. “I knew you could do it.”

“The lengths we go to trying to make grocery shopping more exciting,” I muse, wrestling the cart back into a straight line as it wanders off to the right again. We turn the corner and I see Shepard halfway down the aisle, a jar of spaghetti sauce in each hand and a look of bewilderment on his face.

“Dad,” Amanda stage-whispers. “Look!”

“I see him,” I hiss back.

“Hey, Shepard,” Amanda calls brightly.

Shepard tenses, but then sees that it’s us and smiles. “Hey, guys,” he says.

“Will you both excuse me a minute?” Amanda says as we draw level with Shepard. “I just need to go get some gum. Or soda. Or something else that’s in an aisle far, far away.” With one last smile, she’s gone.

“Sorry about her,” I say. “She’s incurably bratty. I blame the parents.”

“Since you’re here, you can help me choose,” Shepard says, showing me the two jars. “I seem to be having a hard time choosing between Mushroom and Garlic, and Garlic Mushroom.”

“That _is_ a tough one,” I say, nodding seriously.

A young guy pushes his cart into our aisle; there’s a baby sitting in the cart, and a toddler trailing behind him who’s making a drawn-out, wordless whining noise. It’s irritating for sure, but Shepard seems more bothered by it than I am.

“I’d say…Garlic Mushroom,” I say to Shepard.

“Thanks,” he says, putting the jar into his basket. “I don’t know why I couldn’t just pick one.”

“It happens sometimes,” I say, shrugging. “Don’t stress about it – Amanda and I just had a five-minute debate about toaster tarts.”

Shepard smiles, but it’s strained.

An annoyingly loud and intrusive voice comes over the in-store speakers, calling all available staff to the checkouts. The toddler beside us knocks a jar onto the floor, which smashes in a glittering explosion of red sauce and glinting glass. The dad starts shouting, the toddler starts wailing, the baby starts crying and the voice on the speakers keeps on talking.

Shepard goes pale and tense, his knuckles whitening on the handle of his shopping basket. His jaw clenches reflexively and he looks just a few seconds away from bolting. I recall what he said about being nervous in noisy environments and realise that the noise and chaos have triggered a reaction that he’s struggling to process.

“Shepard,” I say. He doesn’t seem to hear me, so I step in front of him and say more firmly, “Shepard.”

He looks at me, taking a moment to register what he’s seeing. “Yeah.”

“You’re okay, Shepard,” I say, attempting to be soothing and non-threatening. “I’m here with you – everything’s alright. We’re just going to walk to the pet food aisle, okay? No rush.”

He nods tightly and follows me, away from the noise and the wailing. The pet food aisle is empty, as I’d hoped, and he seems a little less tense once it’s just the two of us. I don’t really know what to say, so I settle for standing quietly beside him and letting him take a minute.

“Sorry,” he says eventually.

“No need,” I say. “Really, don’t even think about it.”

“I just…I feel so…” He breaks off with a frustrated grunt.

“Shepard, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” I’m trying to be reassuring, while desperately hoping I’m not making it worse. “I can stay with you, or go, whatever you need.”

He takes a deep, quick breath through his nose. “Thanks, Kaidan. I think I need to leave. Could you…would you come with me?”

“Sure,” I say immediately. “Give me one minute.”

I take a couple of steps away and ring Amanda; she meets me at the end of the aisle. I pass over the trolley and Shepard’s shopping basket along with my wallet and say, “I need to take Shepard home. Can you pay for all this and drive yourself back home?”

“Sure,” she says; she looks confused, but doesn’t ask any questions. I pull her into a tight hug, kissing her brow before letting her go.

Shepard is silent on the drive back and doesn’t protest at me driving his car. I let the radio fill the silence until we pull onto his driveway; I don’t want to push him to talk if he’s not ready. Then we walk to his door and he unlocks it, pushing it open a crack.

“I’m fine from here,” he says, glancing at me with a shadow of his usual smile.

“Okay,” I say, then cautiously, “but can I just come in and get you a cup of coffee or something?”

“No, it’s okay, I…” Shepard begins; then he stops, takes a breath and says, “Sure.”

We walk through to his kitchen and I start setting up his coffee machine. Shepard stands by the sink, hands braced on the edge as he looks out into the garden. I get a mug out of the cupboard, then a second, then put the second one back, unsure whether I should stay or not. He doesn’t seem to notice, lost in his own head.

There’s a gentle tap at the front door and I go to answer it. Amanda is standing there with a grocery bag in her hands. “These are Shepard’s things,” she says, handing the bag over.

“Thanks, Amanda,” I say. “You’re a good kid.”

“Sure I am,” she shrugs. “I was raised by the best. Don’t rush home, I can get myself dinner.”

“Love you,” I call after her, taking a moment to be proud before heading back inside.

Shepard has poured coffee into two mugs, solving my debate for me. He’s leaning against the counter, his mug clutched between his hands, and he gives me a wan smile. “You didn’t have to get my shopping,” he says.

“I didn’t want to let all the spaghetti sauce debating go to waste,” I say, setting the bag on the counter. “Want me to help put it away?”

“I’ll get to it later,” Shepard says. “Come drink your coffee.”

I pick up my mug and lean against the counter beside him, close but not touching. The silence stretches and I let it.

Eventually Shepard says, “Thanks for, um…well, just for being…I mean, I appreciate that you didn’t freak out.” He stops and sighs; he looks weary and embarrassed.

“Shepard, I…” I break off, take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to say this, exactly, but…I want you to know that nothing has changed. I mean, with me…with us…with how I feel about you…” He’s watching me as I ramble on, his expression easing into something more relaxed. “I really like you, Shepard. I think you’re awesome, and brave, and I respect your service to our country and – God, no, that sounds so trite and pathetic…” I grimace, frustrated at myself.

Shepard stops me by bumping his hip against mine. “Thanks, Kaidan. I think I get what you’re trying to say and…I appreciate it. More than you know.”

“Okay,” I say thankfully. “I’ll just stop humiliating myself, then.”

Shepard puts down his mug and takes mine from me, setting them both on the counter. Then he pulls me into a hug, his hold on me surprisingly strong. “You’re a good friend,” he says, his breath brushing my ear. “I know we're still getting to know each other, but…I know that I can trust you.”

“I’m here for you, Shepard,” I say, my heart swelling. “Whatever you need.”

We pull apart and share a look that’s somewhere in between super hot and super awkward. Then he takes another step away and tucks his hands into his back pockets. “I think I need to be on my own for a while, if that doesn’t sound rude,” he says. “But we’re still on for pizza and games at your place tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, definitely,” I say. “But how about I bring some stuff over here and cook for us instead?”

“Sure,” Shepard says softly. “I think I kinda love that idea.”


	5. Second Date

Shepard sips on a beer as he watches me unpacking ingredients onto the counter. “Steak and bacon – you weren’t kidding when you said you were a carnivore.”

“Is that okay?” I ask.

“Anything I don’t have to cook for myself is all good with me,” Shepard says. “And Kaidan – I’m not going to mention it again after this but…thanks for yesterday. It meant a lot that you stuck around.”

I nod, smiling. “Like I said, I’m on your side. Now take a look in the bag – there’s a couple of gifts in there from Amanda.”

“Nothing that’s going to explode though, right?” Shepard asks, reaching in with exaggerated caution. He draws out a cube-shaped box printed in gaudy colours. “What’s this?” He peels off the bright orange sticky note that Amanda has stuck to the lid.

“Amanda set up an online shopping account for you, those are the login details. Since you’ve been out of the country for a while, she thought maybe you didn’t know they do home delivery at CostsLess. It saves a whole lot of time and hassle.”

“Right.” Shepard nods slowly. “Thanks, I uh…I didn’t know about that.”

“I hope we haven’t overstepped,” I say, anxiety spiking. “And I’m not saying you can’t handle – um, this isn’t a judgement or anything, just…shit, have I done this all wrong?”

“No,” Shepard says, and finally he smiles. “It’s just not what I was expecting. Tell Amanda thanks for me.”

“Don’t thank me until you see the other gift,” I say, nodding to the box he’s still holding. He holds it up and reads, “‘Break The Ice: The Ultimate Party Starter’.”

“She said, and this is almost word for word, that since I’m antisocial and you’re super mysterious, without her help we’d probably end up just sitting around not talking,” I say, dropping my pre-chopped ingredients into the casserole pot I brought with me.

“Rude, but I’m game.” Shepard takes out a card. “So Kaidan,” he says, in a superbly cheesy game show host voice, “what’s the most embarrassing fashion trend you’ve ever rocked?”

I laugh, adding wine and stock to the pot. “Which one? I’ve made many sartorial missteps in my time – just ask Amanda.”

Shepard laughs too, relaxed and gorgeous. “So pick one.”

“Um…okay, when I was a teenager I went through a little bit of a goth phase – rebelling against my dad more than anything, but I actually looked pretty good in skin-tight black jeans and eyeliner.”

“Now that I can believe,” Shepard says, giving me a blatant once-over. “Tell me you got a tattoo as well.” “

You’ll have to find that out for yourself,” I smile, my heart and groin tightening at the smoulder in his eyes. “How about you – worst fashion faux pas?”

Shepard shrugs, taking a drink of beer, watching me walk to the oven and pop the casserole inside. “I’ve always dressed like I do now, pretty much. Nothing exciting to tell you.”

“So you’ve always been effortlessly cool and stylish while remaining totally oblivious to it,” I say wryly. “Sounds about right.”

“Sweet talker,” Shepard grins, handing me the box. “Your turn.”

I take a card and read, “’You have to sing karaoke, what song do you pick?’ Well, firstly, that’s never going to happen…but if I had to pick it’d be Queen, We Will Rock You.”

“Because there’s very little actual singing in it?” Shepard asks.

“Got it in one,” I grin. “Trust me, you’d thank me for it.”

“I’d still like to hear it, some day,” Shepard smiles. “Me and the guys used to do karaoke pretty often, as it happens – sometimes you need to just do something ridiculous to release all the tension of being out on a tour, you know?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I get that. So what was your go-to song?”

“I sang a lot of old school rock…Alice Cooper, Aerosmith, Bon Jovi, that kinda thing. But sometimes I’d crack out a ballad, just to see the looks on their faces.” Shepard laughs a little, and it warms my heart. “I once sang the whole of ‘Wicked Game’ to my buddy Garrus, in front of a whole bar full of marines – you know, that Chris Isaak song? He never lived it down.”

I stamp on the nudge of jealousy and laugh along with Shepard. “Isn’t that a pretty tough song to sing?”

“It gets kinda high, I guess,” Shepard shrugs.

I shake my head, pretending dismay. “You can sing, you’re stylish without trying, and you’re _that_ good-looking too? There’s no justice.”

“Hey, you should see me dance,” Shepard says. “I’m not good at everything, trust me.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I smile, handing back the box. “You’re up again.”

Shepard takes another card and chuckles. “‘What’s your cheesiest pick-up line?’ Looks like this is my time to shine – prepare yourself, Alenko, your pants may spontaneously combust in the next few minutes.”

I laugh, leaning against the counter with my arms folded. “Go ahead, give me your best shot.”

“Speaking of pants, those look really comfortable – are they felt?” Shepard leans closer, waggling his eyebrows. “Would you like them to be?”

I laugh and groan simultaneously. “Wow, that was bad…I thought you said you were good at this?”

“Oh, you asked for it,” Shepard said, cracking his knuckles purposefully. “Are you a photographer? ‘Cos I can definitely picture us together.”

“Awful,” I declare.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put you and I together.”

“Terrible.”

“You’re so hot, you’re giving me sunburn.”

“Tragic,” I say, unable to hold in a laugh.

“Fine. The gloves are coming off.” Shepard moves even closer, and I unconsciously angle my body towards him. “Want to watch porn later on my flat screen mirror?”

I swallow; that last one was actually kinda hot, delivered in that deep voice with a fake-but-still-sexy intensity. I unfold my arms just for something to do, and find myself clutching the edge of the counter behind me.

“Liked that one, huh?” Shepard asks, and the exaggerated persona drops as he moves closer. He puts a hand on the counter beside me, inches from mine, and leans in. “Are you a magician, Kaidan? Because when I’m next to you, everything else disappears.”

“Oh,” I say stupidly, licking my lips, unable to look away. These lines are terrible, but my dick doesn’t seem to know that.

“I’m really glad you could come over today – I was feeling a little off earlier,” Shepard says, his hand moving to cover mine on the counter’s edge. “But now that you’re here, I’m definitely turned on.”

“Must be my electric personality,” I pun weakly. It doesn’t even make sense, but Shepard smiles anyway.

“Now _that_ was bad,” he says, so close I can feel his breath on my lips. “Don’t you have any better lines than that?”

I pause, debate what I’m about to say for approximately half a second, then turn my body so I’m facing him. “Kiss me if I’m wrong, but the earth is flat, right?”

Shepard laughs, slides a hand into my hair, and kisses me.

I close my eyes, hands clenching on the counter so that I don’t do something stupid like grab him and throw him onto the floor. The kiss is firm but gentle, and I’m almost scared to breathe in case I break the moment. Then Shepard’s hand in my hair tightens ever so slightly, and the hand over mine squeezes reflexively, and without thinking I tilt my head and part my lips. Shepard makes a little grunting sound, and heat rushes through my stomach. Our tongues touch and I can’t help groaning, and Shepard’s hand moves from my hand to my hip, and my nose is filled with the scent of him, and my jeans are tightening already, and it might be a very short evening if I’m not careful. I break the kiss but stay close, breathless, gratified to see he’s panting a little too.

“Too much?” he asks hoarsely.

“No,” I say. “It’s just…I haven’t really dated anyone since Alex died, so I’m a little rusty at this.”

“I don’t want to rush you,” Shepard murmurs. “I’ve never met anyone like you, and I don’t want to ruin this.”

A burst of affection makes me giddy, and I realise that I’m at least halfway in love with him already. But when the hand in my hair moves away, and the one on my hip starts to drop, something fierce and needy and liberating rushes through me.

“Hey,” I say, bringing my hands up to his chest, tugging on his shirt. “I know this is only our second date, and that we haven’t actually been out in public together yet, but…I also know that whatever’s going on here is special, Shepard, and I’m done pretending I don’t want you. All of you, in every way.”

Shepard’s grin is electric, thrilling. “I feel the same, Kaidan. So…does this mean you’re ready for more?”

I grin, pull him closer by the collar and kiss him again.

He holds my face in his warm, rough hands, his mouth eager as he kisses me deeply. I grab his hips to hold him against me, sliding my fingers under the hem of his shirt until they find the soft heat of his skin. Shepard makes an approving noise and tangles a hand in my hair, the other stroking down my neck to rest on my chest. His mouth follows after it, kissing under my jaw and then down my throat before he sucks gently on my collarbone. I feel breathless, light-headed, but his solid presence against me is grounding and safe.

I let my hands explore his skin, feeling the bumps of scars amid the soft, smooth expanse. Then I feel a tug at my shirt and realise that Shepard is unfastening the buttons; he raises his head to look at me when my shirt falls open, and the look of lust on his face grabs me by the dick.

“Kaidan,” he breathes, both hands smoothing over my chest and abs. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

I laugh, and it’s a little bit out-of-control. “Yeah? You should see you. Speaking of which…” I reach up to unfasten his shirt too, pushing it to fall back onto the floor. His body is lean, tightly muscled, lightly tanned with a scattering of dark hair; it’s pretty damn perfect, and I almost can’t believe I’m allowed to touch it.

Shepard grins as my shirt joins his on the floor. Then he pulls me into another kiss, his hands grasping my ass firmly, and I lose the ability to form coherent thoughts.

As I find myself grinding against the bulge in his jeans, the smell of casserole thick in the air, it strikes me that it’s vaguely ridiculous to have our first sexual encounter in his kitchen, hurried and inelegant. But then his mouth finds my nipple and his hand slips under my waistband, and it suddenly seems like the perfect venue after all.

“We should probably take our time,” I gasp, loving how tightly he’s squeezing my ass. “Y’know, this being our first time and all.”

“Probably,” he murmurs against my skin. “But that stew’s going to be ready soon, and I don’t know if I can wait all the way through a meal.” Then he raises his head to look me in the eye. “Unless…do _you_ want to slow this down?”

His eyes are so blue, so bright; his lips are reddened, his chest is flushed, and his hand is still down my pants. “Fuck, no,” I say firmly. “I don’t ever want you to stop touching me.”

Shepard captures my mouth again and our kiss is all heat and urgency, his control slipping right along with mine. I can’t stop my hands from moving across that glorious smooth skin, circling his nipples and teasing at the hairs disappearing under his waistband. Shepard squeezes my ass in both hands, his fingers dancing deliciously close to the valley in the middle; then he’s palming my cock, just one thin layer separating my skin from his, and I breathe his name brokenly.

“Is this okay?” he asks against my mouth.

“Yes,” I gasp. “I want you to touch me everywhere.”

“I need your hand on me, Kaidan,” Shepard murmurs and we fumble at each other’s zippers in glorious synchronicity.

His cock is hard and hot in my hand, and his groan makes me shiver. We fall into a steady rhythm, holding each other close as our hands move on each other, kissing deeply between gasps and moans. Tension is building low down in my groin, tightening and twisting; impulsively I lean in and nibble at Shepard’s neck, and he moans and tenses up. I feel his cock stutter in my hand, then the warm wetness of his come on my skin.

_I made him come. Shepard’s come is on my hand. Shepard’s hand is on my cock. Shepard’s teeth are on my nipple. Shepard…_

“Shepard!” I cry out, resting my head on his shoulder as my pleasure reaches a crescendo and I break in hard, messy spurts. My heart is beating so hard it hurts, but I can’t stop grinning.

“I've got you,” Shepard says softly, kissing somewhere beside my ear.

“Wow,” I say dumbly. “That was…wow.”

“Not a bad way to work up an appetite,” Shepard says, just as the oven timer starts bleeping. “Hey, how’s that for perfect timing?” He smiles and takes a step back. “You wanna go use the bathroom? I can clean up down here.”

“Sure,” I say, “thanks.”

I head up the stairs, ignoring the awkwardness of walking through Shepard’s house with my junk on display. The bathroom is like the rest of the house, clean and neat but sparse on personality. I wash up, noting in the mirror how flushed I am and the stupid smile on my face. On a whim I pick up Shepard’s body wash and pop the cap, taking a deep breath. I recognise the smell from his skin – from having my face pressed against him as I came – and wonder if I should buy a bottle just to have his scent near me.

It hits me hard when I realise that there’s no need – that I’m going to have the real thing close by from now on. Somehow, I doubt that stupid smile will be going anywhere for a long, long time.


End file.
